International Men Of Shagery
by Smol Levi
Summary: Murdoc Niccals finds his way to 60's themed bar for no decent reason other than he needs a drink and a decent shag. What he finds alongside that would be the irrefutable company of a one Austin Powers. Who can find more fun? The sexy demon bassist from Gorillaz or the irresistible "spy who shagged me"?
1. Chapter 1: Blue Suited Nob

"SOD 'FF FACEACHE!"

Murdoc could be heard yelling from his Winnebago from anywhere around Kong Studios. To say he was sick of seeing the same three people over and over would be an understatement. ESPECIALLY THE SODDING DULLARD STANDING OUTSIDE HIS DOOR. Sure he could stand Noodle (who couldn't; the girl was fucking adorable) but Lard-ass was too demanding and shit faced to be anywhere near being important to the demon bassist. The singer of the group was just sodding annoying. Never had a clear thought in his empty head and when he did, it was an idiotic premise that he had to share with everyone. No doubt that's why he was standing outside the door now.

"Bu' Muds, I nee' t' talk wif yew. I's about de concert next week," the singer moaned from outside the Winnie's door.

Murdoc placed a hand on his head and ran it through his black hair. He was not eager enough nor drunk enough to deal with this shit right now. He picked himself off his bed and found his way to the door.

"WHA' THE FUCK YA WANT ME T' DO ABOU' IT!?" he hollered as he flung open the door.

The singer flinched and backed up a bit. Clearly assuming he was going to be hit or something. The azure haired kid began to stutter as Murdoc began losing even more of his patience.

"I-I, er, uh, I just nee' t' know where fe concert is."

Murdoc ran his hand over his face as he looked on at the singer.

'Please just go the fuck away,' he pleaded in his mind.

"M-maybe I should ask Russ fen," mumbled 2D as he turned to leave; clearly picking up on the "Don't Fuck With Me" vibe the bassist was giving off.

Murdoc watched as the singer disappeared back in to the heart of Kong. Sweet Satan how he needed a drink. Wallowing back into his Winnebago, he searched the shelves to find nothing. Not a sodding drop of Whiskey or Vodka. Nothing.

"Christ..."

That would leave him with two options. Stay here and hate the world for not giving him the alcohol he severely craved OR go out and find some shit bar where he could possibly pick up a bored fangirl looking for nothing more than a decent shag. Sitting back, the latter seemed more plausible... God damn it. Now he actually had to go somewhere. Better than this Hell hole. Literally.

Shoving a grey long sleeve shirt over his half naked body (he was already wearing black jeans), he made his way to the front of his Winnebago. There was no point in telling the rest of the band he was leaving. They would figure it out eventually, yeah? Not like anyone here gave a shit. Russ was probably off playing some Japanese game with Noodle and 2D would most likely be watching and asking pointless questions until it drove Lard-ass nuts. Sighing, Murdoc turned the key in the ignition and screeched out of the car park. Hoping to get the Hell out of there before anyone could stop him.

Now, what bar to go to was a mystery. Any bar in town would know him to be honest. Hell even the bartenders knew what to get him when he walked in the door. There should be a red flag there... He frequented one bar in particular though the most. Not like he could remember the name. Too drunk to care most of the time. All he could remember was that it had this weird 1960's feel to it. Too cheery typically for his tastes but he needed a drink and that was a place to find one. It wasn't too far if he was needed back in Hell but it was far enough that he could forget about everything around him. Speeding down the road, he kept his hands firmly placed on the wheel. Blasting Black Sabbath all the way there. Not giving two shits about anyone else on the road. After a few minutes, he had arrived at said bar. "Parking" his Winnebago (more like shoving it in between an alley way) and bolting for the door. He was gonna get that drink if it was the last thing he'd do.

Walking in, his face was graced with a shit load of fluorescent lights. Girls dancing in cages with crazy-ass dresses barely covering their arse. The bar was near the back and how he began to regret coming in here. It was full of high randy wankers waiting to be shagged. That and lonely men. Murdoc smirked at his thought and moved past the dancing girls. Straight to an empty seat at the bar. To no surprise at all, the bartender handed him a straight up whiskey. A smile plastered on his face. His name tag read "Randy Andy." Classy place...

"Ere ya go, Mr. Niccals."

Shit. He had been in here before. Apparently one too many times.

"Me name is Murdoc Niccals," he snarled,"Mr. Niccals was my dick father."

"Er, right. Sorry sir."

The bar tender receded back to his previous state as the bassist looked around. Place was busy with skinny, white scum and busty, bodacious women. The latter somewhat suited what he was looking for. He scanned the room from the bar as another round ended up in his hand. The sweet sense of nothingness slowly taking over his brain. Numbing it and preventing any memories or worries from showing up. Suddenly, the tune playing overhead went to some cheery shit. Something from the 60's no doubt. He'd heard it before. Soul of Bossa? Bossa Soul Nova? Something shitty like that. Taking another swig, he watched as he could have sworn someone began screaming in his ear.

He was right. Nearly.

Swinging around -pissed that someone was making this much noise- he glared at the person blaring his mouth. Fucking git was dressed in some blue suit. What the Hell? Who even dresses up like that anymore? Let alone ever. Well, wait, he was in a sixties set bar...

"Alright loves, everyone get's a drink on me!"

The crowd cheered as Murdoc watched a young, busty blonde ran up to the man and whispered something in his ear. The man nearly screamed his reply back to her.

"OH DO BEHAVE."

Murdoc turned to the bar tender and snarled," Who the soddin' 'ell is that..."

The bartender turned to Murdoc with a shocked expression.

"You don' know who dat is?"

"No and right now, I don't care. 'E's taking all my clientele," snarled the bassist back; Referring to the shag-able women in the room.

The Satanist turned back towards the bar and looked on at "Randy Andy." Whom at this point, seemed a little enthralled with the blue clad creep prancing around like a gay monkey.

"Well, sir, dat's the one and only-"

Suddenly an overly-happy, awkwardly British voice cut off the bartender.

"Austin Powers and who, dear sir, are you?"

Murdoc spun around to see a crooked smiled, blue suited, raggedy haired, self proclaimed git standing in front of him with a gleam coming from every part of his face. He was leaning on the bar with his side, one leg crossed over the other. Looking him up and down for a second, the demon decided something hysterical: Tearing this guy down was going to be fun.


	2. Chapter 2: You're On Powers

"The fuck are yew?"

The bassist chimed up as he looked this man down. Or rather, eye to eye. Finally an opponent his height...

"Oi! You're a feisty one aren't yew?" A one Austin Powers rang back," Bet et get's ya good shag now and then ey, green man."

Murdoc watched as the man slapped the bar counter and sat down on the seat adjacent to him. Randy Andy handing him some sort of bullshit drink a bird would order. The man tossed his drink up a bit and then slurped it down quick. Gasping as he pulled back the glass.

"Gotta love a shot of pina colada. Sharp stuff."

Well, okay, he could admit to drinking that. They were decent when made well but come on... a gasp over a pina colada?

"Wha'? Tha' shit?" Murdoc pointed hastily to the empty glass," I bet a bird could shot something harder than that."

The man clad in blue smiled; his teeth were nearly as horrid as the Satanist's.

"Yeah," Austin leaned in and nudged the bassist," bu' wouldn't you rather shot that off a bird?"

Alright, so the lad wasn't all bad... Murdoc gave off a devilish smile and looked on at the man. Who now sat comfortably with another drink in his hand thanks to the bar tender.

"So wha' brings you in here, mate? Lovely little man like yourself can't find a bird elsewhere?"

Taking offense to that suggestion, the bassist sat up and threw his arm back behind his chair. Leaning back and setting his feet up on the bar top.

"I 'appened to be pissed off with the gits at 'ome so I found the nearest bar. Just turned out to be this shi' 'ole... Murdoc Niccals needs 'is down time too ya know..."

Murdoc slammed his hand down on the bar top nearly screeching for another whiskey. Watching as it practically flied into his hand from the opposite side of the bar. Shooting it down, he slammed it down and glared at the man across from him. Who, at this point, was eyeing him up and down.

"Murdoc Niccals ey? I think I've 'eard of you. You're from that one band about monkeys yeah? WAIT are you from The Monkees?!"

What. The. Fuck. Those lot are probably all dead now... or rather, old and on their way there. Bubble gum shit from the 60's and this guy thinks that's what he plays? Yeah... right...

"THE MONKEES?! BLOODY 'ELL NO!"

The blue clad man jumped in his place," alright alright! Who shoved their foot up your kiester, ey?"

Murdoc growled," I'm in a band called Gorillaz. Just so 'appens t' be my band."

Austin Powers sat up straight and let out a small laugh.

"So, ya here for some tail?"

Murdoc's smile raised across his face. Hell yeah he was. He watched as the man let out a devious laugh," Oh do behave!"

Murdoc let his head fall back a bit as his arms held it up. He was somewhat intrigued with whom ever this freak show was. People around the bar seem to love him. Kept his own banter up and honestly, best conversation Muds had had with anyone in a while. Sure Lard-ass could speak with some intelligence but who the living fuck would WANT to talk to him...

"I'll 'ave you know tha' I could get any one of these birds."

"Cocky bastard aren't you, Mr. Niccals is it?"

"That was my dead beat no good bastard father. Call me Murdoc or nothing at all."

"Alright Nothing At All."

Okay. Now he wanted to hit him. Just as he began to sit up, he noticed something almost mouth dropping happen.

"Dear Jesus..." Austin mumbled as his eyes nearly bugged out of his head.

The two turned their bodies towards the door. There it was. The target. Rather, there they were. The targets.

"My God their boobs are bigger than me 'ead!"

Murdoc turned to the practically salivating Austin Powers. Randy ponce wasn't he? Well, who could blame him... these women were what every rock star had every night (he would know). Huge tits. Nice arse. Barely covered. Easy enough. Suddenly, he could feel the devious smile piercing the back of his head. Spinning around in his seat, he noticed blue suit man staring at him.

"The fuck ya want?"

Austin Powers gave out what could be considered a near evil laugh but not enough to mean something.

"Wha' do ya say we make a game out of this, Nothing At All?"

Murdoc glared at the man with a twisted smile," Go on."

"I say who ever can get the lot of them to shag wins."

A game with an idiotic child on who could get more sex? Was this guy a dullard? He was speaking to the Sex God Murdoc Fucking Niccals. Oh this ponce was going down...

"You're on, Powers."


End file.
